


Irrestistible: Super Sexy Smutty Demon Patrick Because Hawt Dayum

by CookieMonstersRUs



Series: Demon!Patrick Makes a Friend! [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Age Difference, Allusions to Pregnancy, Angst, Apocalypse, Barely Legal, Barely unclothed sex, Because of the hook, Biting, Blow Jobs, But Fun Sexy Times, But he has a rly nice dick, By a Year, Courtney Love Sucks I Swear, Courtney's Cult, Cunnilingus, Demon Patrick Stump, Demon Patrick tho, Dubious Morality, Dyed hair, Everything Hurts, F/M, Hair Pulling, Hook hand, Hook kink?, Hot Sex, I giggled while writing this, I swear, Is it just me or are the Vixens really hot?, Isolation, Joe and Andy are dead, Lies, Lots and lots of dramatic irony, Neck Kissing, Not A Happy Ending, Not really though, OC does not realize Patrick is a demon, OC just isn't aware of the reality they're in, Omg that's somehow a turn on, Oral Sex, Patrick Stump is a Dick, Patrick's Hook Hand, Penis In Vagina Sex, Potentially dangerous sex, Radios are the Devil, Sexy Times, She's legal, She's sort of kidnapped?, Smug Motherfuckers, Smut, Stuck in a Cabin, Stuck in the Desert, Technically Unsafe Sex, The Vixens - Freeform, This is a really good story guys, Unghhhh, Well - Freeform, Yellow Eyed Patrick Stump, Young Blood Chronicles, but still, so its okay, torn clothes, ybc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:13:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5833807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieMonstersRUs/pseuds/CookieMonstersRUs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I just think it’s funny that you waited until the third time we’ve had sex before you asked me if I was legal or not.”<br/>“Well, you’ve been very enticing.”<br/>Winona rolled her eyes. She took another bite of her Lucky Charms. “I’m nineteen.”<br/>“Damn,” Patrick scrubbed his eyes. “You look like you’re twenty two.”<br/>“Yeah, well, it’s probably because I know what I want in life, but, yeah, I’ve only been legal for a year.”<br/>“Oh, god,” he groaned, looking down. Patrick looked like he was having a hangover but Winona knew he wasn’t. “Winnie, you sure are something.”<br/>“That I am, Patrick, that I am…”</p><p>Or the one where Demon!Patrick from the Young Blood Chronicles makes a friend, hunts his friends, she has no idea about it, and lots of fun sexy times go on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irrestistible: Super Sexy Smutty Demon Patrick Because Hawt Dayum

Winona must’ve not gotten the message because come Monday morning, no one was at the grocery store. It was completely empty and the place also looked ransacked. It looked like the apocalypse had occurred, actually, now that she thought about it, it might have; there was no traffic that morning. The Safeway had canned food spilling out on the floor and cartons upon cartons of eggs were either missing or cracked, lying on the floor. Winona frowned and pulled out her phone, thumbing it on. She scrolled to the news and almost dropped her phone at the headline: _SILENCE THE NOISE! THE VIXENS ARE OUT TO DESTROY MUSIC._

  
She of course had heard of the cult before, it had been in the news for the past few months, but the government hadn’t been able to touch the underground cult comprised of leather clad women equipped with hammers and mallets. The Vixens had their eyes set out to destroy all musical instruments and destroy all singers everywhere. They had already killed Elton John somehow and had kidnapped loads of other bands such as _Panic! At the Disco_ and music titans like Madonna and Gerard Way. Winona hadn’t realized how bad it was, especially with those living in LA and New York.

  
Winona guessed that bombing five state capitals had finally set the message in. It probably wasn’t such a good idea for her to have left her house than… Winona looked around, her heart clenching in her chest. Oh god, were her parents okay? Outside Winona could hear the loud squelch of tires skidding down the road. The girl ran out of the store and into the road to see a rusty red car swerving down the road, a pale bloodied figure behind the wheel. Winona waved her arms around on the hot asphalt, yelling, “Hey! Stop! Slow down!”

  
The car skidded to a stop a foot away from her. The guy behind the windshield had a crazy look in his blue eyes. He kept glancing out of the rearview mirror and tightening his grip on the wheel. That was when she noticed the sharp hook where his left hand should’ve been. She tried to hold in her scream, but only be shoving her hands over her mouth could she stiffled the squeal. She stared at the man, eyes grown in horror. And the weird part was that she even sort of recognized him, he would come to the store on Tuesdays. “Get out of the road!” He shouted, his hook swinging out of the car window. He looked rabid, no, he looked like he was being hunted. “Come on! Move!”

  
“We need to leave the city!” she yelled back, her throat felt raspy and dry, her eyes prickled with tears. He honked his horn.

 

“Dammit, _you_ need to move!” He glanced behind him and then back at her. He looked like he wanted to throw his hook at her if it would only make her move. “They’re coming, you’ve got to leave before they get to me.”

 

“Let me help you,” she called, her voice breaking off at the end. The man looked at her like she was the crazy one.

 

“What? No! What if I was a serial killer? You need to leave, go--GO!” Winona breathed in deeply, her shoulders shaking. Her fingers twisted in the sleeve of her coat.

 

“I don’t...I don’t know where to go. I--I need to...I’m…” she looked to the bright blue sky, wondering if it would give her better words.

 

She looked back down. The man huffed, his hook clinking against the side of the car. “It’s your life,” he sighed and the click of the doors unlocking was somehow louder than the grumble of the car’s engine. Winona let out a breath and sprinted over to the car door.

 

As soon as she moved out of the direct path of the car, the man pressed down on the gas and zoomed past her before she could even reach the door. “Hey!” she yelled, running after the car. Sweat dripped down her forehead from the Californian sun and her jeans slipped down her hips uncomfortably as she ran after the car. “Hey! Wait! You said--Hey!”

Behind her, the sudden roar of three cars blared. Winona looked back and three sleek black cars zoomed down the block. She couldn’t see who was driving because of the tinted windows, but the graffitied logo on the hood--the symbol of The Vixens--caught her eye. Winona’s head whipped towards the red dump of a car. She screamed at the moving car. “The Vixens! Help!

 

They’re going to kill me! They’re a cult! Cults are scary! Help me! Please!”

 

The red car braked, the tires screaming against the asphalt. Winona sprinted for the car and jerked the car door open, swinging inside, the car moving again before she even closed the door and buckled up. The man glanced at her and then he pressed down on the gas pedal. They swerved to the right, onto the next street, and they continued on like that. Winona’s heart slammed against her ribcage until the sleek black cars had disappeared from sight.

 

\--/Gold Dust/--

Winona wasn’t sure how far into the desert they were, or even how long they’d been driving, but the sand whizzed past them when the tires kicked up the dust. She didn’t know what the man’s name was or why he had a hook for a hand, but she did know he was bloody. She stared at the red stains that dripped down his forehead and the sweat slipping down his neck. His hair was covered in dirt and she suspected that when clean, he was probably a blond or a strawberry blond, maybe a redhead. The fingers on his one hand tapped on the wheel and his shoulders kept jerking every few minutes as if he was shivering, but it was at least ninety degrees out here in the middle of the day and in the desert so there was no reason for him to be cold. He kept biting at his lips, making the bottom lip bleed and the car’s engine groaned as it rolled on.

She gulped and looked down at her feet. “So, you, uh,” he glanced at her and then his eyes switched back ahead, to the horizon.

Her wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. “You, uh, buy a _lot_ of ramen.”

He frowned, his blue eyes flashing towards her again. “What?”

“Um, I work at that grocery store and you, um, buy a lot of ramen. I knew I recognized you from somewhere. You buy a lot of ramen.”

“I guess you could, um,” his lips quirked awkwardly, “you could say I was fueled by ramen.” She frowned, confused. He shook his head. “No, um, actually, my friends just like a lot of ramen.”

“Oh. Where, where are your friends?” His hand clenched on the wheel.

“Where are yours?” he snapped. Winona flinched and pressed against the side of the car. She looked out of her window. “I’m sorry, I just, I don’t know. I’m trying...I can’t find them and I’m worried sick.”

“Yeah,” Winona nodded. “Do you have a way of contacting them?”

“I used to,” the guy looked away. “But, I’m not sure, I think I might know where they are? We used to, to go to this cabin, out in the middle of nowhere. They might be there, I don’t know. We’ll see.”

It was silent for a moment. Then, “What’s your name?”

“Patrick, you?”

“Winona.”

“Winona,” he tasted out the name on his tongue. His lips smacked together. He looked over to her and she looked back. His eyes almost looked amber in the sun’s reflection and he smiled goofily, “Has anyone ever called you Winnie before?”

A laugh tumbled past her lips. Her dad would call her that, so did her friend James. “Yeah, yeah my...well, yeah, you can call me that.”

Patrick nodded and looked back to the horizon, his smile playing softly on his lips.

\--/Gold Dust/--

The car radio sparked up about mile before they got to the cabin. Winona could see it in the distance, and the white car parked nearby. Patrick’s entire body clenched up when the bass of the song reverberated out of the speakers. “Is that them?” Winona asked.

Patrick shook his head slowly and he looked unsure. His hand gripped the wheel tightly, his feet tapping anxiously against the floor of the car. “I don’t…” His brows furrowed.

They pulled up next to the white car. A woman in a leather jacket and high heels leaned against the car. Winona could’ve sworn she was a Vixen for a moment, but the woman squealed when she saw Patrick, arms open wide. And she was makeup-less. Winona watched from the car as the woman and Patrick conversed, the music in the car too loud for her to hear what was being said. The woman gestured wildly to the world around them, smiling and giggling. She wiped the blood off of his forehead and smoothed down his shirt. She pulled him in close and Winona could’ve sworn she was going to kiss Patrick but instead she whispered something into his ear and then bit at his lobe. Patrick frowned at her when she pulled away and she grinned wildly at him. She bopped his nose, pinched his butt, and then pushed him away. Her heels kicked up a small whirlwind of dust as she went around to the driver’s side. She blew Patrick a kiss before she got in and drove away. His shoulders relaxed a moment later.

  
Winona slowly got out of the car and approached the man. “Patrick?”

He swirled around to face her and his eyes looked clearer than they usually did, and more golden. Weren’t his eyes blue? “Yeah?” he smiled crookedly, almost smug like.

“Who was that?”

“Courtney,” he waved his hand, shooing the idea away. “She’s a friend, don’t worry about it.”

“Are your friends inside? Did she tell you anything useful?”

“My friends?” He looked to the horizon, in the direction that Courtney had left. His hook twitched by his side. “No, no,” he looked down. “No, they’re, uh, they’re not here. But I’ll find them.” His eyes darkened when she looked up at him, “I’ll be sure to find them.”

Her thighs trembled and she felt a shiver roll down her spine. He stared at her, golden irises boring into hers--she thought, she wasn’t sure. It looked like he was staring intense. She felt red seep into her cheeks. She looked down, away from his gaze. After a moment, she felt him take a step back, towards the cabin, his boots loud and abrasive. The door creaked and after a moment, she rushed after him into the cabin.

It was more like a shack and everything was dusty. But it had working water apparently, because Patrick was standing at the sink already, jacket stripped and water running. He pulled out a dirty washrag and got it wet. He wiped off the blood on his forehead. Winona shrugged off her jacket and laid it across one of the kitchen chairs. When she looked back up, he was pulling his shirt up to take it off. She stared, brown eyes wide, as the pale smooth planes of his stomach and chest were revealed. He struggled with his shirt a little, getting it caught on his head, but she appreciated it because for a moment longer she got to see his chest. There was a scar on his stomach and her eyes were drawn to it and the bleeding gash on his right rib. Then his shirt was off and she averted her gaze to the window, her cheeks flushed red.

“So,” she coughed, “do you...do you need help with that?” She glanced at the gash on his side. He threw his shirt at the table--it landed just inches from her--and looked down at the gash.

“Sure, can you see if we have anything to fix it up with?”

“Yup!” Winona nodded and then darted out of the room and down the hall.

\--/Gold Dust/--

Winona and Patrick had been in that house for a week. They also had to share a bed. At first Winona had offered to sleep on the couch because Patrick was clearly injured, but he just shook his head and told her that it didn’t matter and that he slept better with someone nearby anyway. So they had taken up to cuddling at night. Most morning she’d wake up to Patrick already in the kitchen. But some days, she had woken up first and he was pressed up against her back, all warmth and heat, his arms wrapped around her. It felt nice for her to be pressed up against his chest.

Like today. His head was burrowed into the crook of her shoulder, his breath whispering against her ear and sometimes his nose would nudge against the back of her neck. He held tightly to her and their bare legs were tangled up against each other. Originally, they had both slept in their jeans and shirts, but after the third night Patrick would strip down his boxers and his shirt and she would do the same. In the middle of the night, Patrick’s shirt would always ride up and that strip of bare skin was always really hot against her back.

Winona always woke up uncomfortable, her lower abdomen flushed and Patrick;s leg was always slipped conveniently between her legs, pressing right up against her…

And as soon as she moved an inch down onto his leg, Patrick would always startle awake. She’d pretend to be asleep as he slipped away from her and towards the bathroom. And Winona would be left both embarrassed and needy.

\--/Gold Dust/--

On the eighth day of being in the cabin, Winona had given up on wearing clothes. All she really needed to wear was her undergarments and pants, so she had decided to just wear her black bra and her black jeans around the cabin. Patrick said nothing, but she noticed him looking away more often.

The radio in the cabin was always buzzing softly. Patrick hummed to the radio’s tune. He looked out of the window. “Courtney said she’d be back soon.”

“With what? Why’d she leave?”

“She’s got some friends...some sources in the Vixens. They might know where my friends are.”

“Oh,” Winona pulled out a waterbottle and quirked the top off. “So, are you two...together?”

Patrick frowned and looked away from the window. “What?”

“Well,” Winona took a long sip, “you two seemed...awfully close.”

“Oh, no, that’s just Courtney, no, I don’t...I don’t like her.”

Winona nodded. “Oh, cool, cool.” She took another sip of water, looking away from Patrick.

While she wasn’t looking, Patrick glanced at her breasts. His gaze moved to a different direction just as quickly when she started to focus back on him. He tugged at the collar of his shirt for a moment before leaving it be. “...Maybe when she comes back she’ll have some supplies for us.”

“And one of your friends if you’re lucky.”

The static of the radio crackled and the grin that furled across Patrick’s face looked less than friendly. “If I was only so lucky.” She looked at him oddly but shrugged it off, looking down her jeans.

“Man, I wish I had shorts, I’m so damn hot in these jeans.”

Patrick bit his lip and then looked away, “Maybe you should, um, just take them off. It’ll be cooler without them on.”

She blushed and the pink spreaded all the way from her cheeks down to the tops of her breasts. With shaky fingers she nodded and slipped the button out of its hole. She rolled the jeans slowly down her legs, peeling them off her skin. Patrick watched her bend down, the curve of her back glowing against the sun. The radio crackled a high note in the silence.

Winona stood up slowly. Patrick’s eyes watched the movement of her legs as she kicked her jeans to the side. She sighed happily and her fingers raked through her short cyan hair, unknowingly jutting out her chest. “That feels better,” she smirked at his expression. She turned away from him and almost pranced out of the kitchen and down the hall.

Patrick looked down at his crotch and growled softly.

\--/Gold Dust/--

“You know,” Winona leaned across the kitchen table that night. The overhead light flickered softly above them. She was still on in her bra and panties and Patrick was making them grilled cheeses.

“Yes, Winnie?”

“Since I’m in just my undergarments, I thought…” she dragged her eyes up to look at him, her finger trailing across the table, “maybe, you should reciprocate. That way I’m not the only one almost naked.”

His golden gaze bore at her from the stove. The sizzle of the frying pan and her breathing were the only sounds. “Yeah?”

She bit her lip and nodded. Her lips parted, and a soft, “Yeah,” puffed out into the night.

Patrick looked down at his clothes and nodded. “Okay.” And in one fluid motion, pulled off his shirt, revealing his chest. On his side, the bandage where he had been bleeding when they first met was gone. Her lips were getting puffy with how much she had bitten them and his eyes seemed transfixed with the slick sheen on her bottom lip. Smoke swirled up from the frying pan.

“You’re burning,” she told him, not breaking eye contact. He nodded, mouth slipping open.

“Yeah,” he licked his lips, “yeah, it’s gotta be really hot.” He turned away and flipped the sandwich. It was only slightly burnt. Winona watched his back as he made the other sandwich. She he was done, only the shut off of the stove was heard in the cabin. The crackle of music simmered down like the heat as the night got darker. Patrick pulled out his chair and sat down, placing their plates on the table. She stared intently at him as she bit into her grilled cheese. Patrick watched and picked up his own sandwich.

Some cheese dribbled down her fingers. She licked it off. “It’s really gooey,” she told him.

“Yeah,” Patrick puffed out. She took another bite of her sandwich and moaned. His eyes drooped. “...really?” His eyebrows quirked but he still bit at his lip.

She shrugged, “What?” She looked down at her dinner. “It’s a really good sandwich.” He chuckled, a deep rumble of his chest. Winona shrugged and leaned back against her chair, her chest arching against the back of the wood. She finished half of her sandwich and Patrick struggled to take another bite. She licked at her fingers every few moments, cleaning the crumbs off of her. Patrick’s fingers trembled when he reached for one of his halves.

She finished her grilled cheese and stared at him as he took another bite. Her legs shifted and one of her feet inched under the table and towards Patrick’s feet. She poked his foot softly and he took another bite. After a moment, she trailed her feet up from his foot, his ankle and up to his calf. She rubbed softly against the jean of his leg and his eyes almost bugged out of his skull. “Are you going to finish that?” She asked sweetly, smirking. The radio frizzled and one of the windows creaked. Patrick breathed in deeply and nodded, taking another bite. Winona’s thighs clenched against each other, her abdomen quivered. “Good,” she mumbled and pulled her lip into her mouth before releasing it. She leaned forward and rested her chin on her hand. Patrick finished one of the halves of his grilled cheese.

He leaned forward as well and he hooked one of his feet into one of the legs of his chair, dragging her closer to him. Their noses almost touched across the table. His hook tapped against the side of the table and she shivered when she noticed the glint in the light. Patrick hummed and took a large bite. His hooked hand disappeared from under the table and landed softly on the top of her thigh. Her legs quivered at the tiny patterns he drew into her skin. She panted softly, her eyes drooping down to stare at his mouth. He licked the crumbs off of his lips, she wanted to do it for him instead.

He took the last bite of his sandwich and she lunged across the table to close the gap, his hook dragging roughly across the skin of her leg as she licked the crumbs off his lips. She stood up and moved around the table. He pushed his chair back and Winona plopped down on his lips, dragging her hands through his strawberry blond hair. His hook trailed down the spine of her back, sharp and almost cutting against her skin. She moaned when his hand rubbed at her ribcage, cool to touch.

He bit at her lip, sharp enough to draw blood, and his tongue laved at the wound. She panted and stood up, rubbing against the bulge in his pants as she went, dragging him up with her. They were out of the kitchen and then pushed her up against the wall, biting against her neck, pressing up against the apex of her thighs. “P-Patrick,” she moaned, head knocking against the wall. The radio played them a deep rough tune, echoing in the cabin, mixing with Patrick’s growls. She grinded back down against him and pulled at his hair, forcing up from her neck to look at her. His eyes shone golden in the hazy light. “Bedroom,” she told him and he nodded, wrapping her legs around his waist and carrying her down the hall and into the bedroom. He dropped her down on the bed and she scrambled to her knees.

Winona stroked the bulge in his pants before unbuckling his belt. Patrick groaned when she got her hands wrapped around him, stroking him once, twice, before moving back to the outside of his pants and pushing them down. While she was busy leaning down and pushing his pants down his legs, he hooked his hook to the back of her bra and tore through the cloth, not bothering with unbuckling her bra. He stepped out of his pants and she tore her broken bra off of her chest, exposing her small breasts.

She looked down at his cock, smirking, and then pulled him forward onto the bed as she moved further up to the headboard.  
He smirked as he leaned down. He kissed her collarbone and then moved down, pressing kisses to her breasts, stomach, and her hip bones. He looked up at her. Winona was panting, her fingers curled in the sheets. He grinned when she finally looked at him, as he tore her panties with his hook and then pulled down her panties with his teeth. Winona moaned. Patrick nuzzled at the dark thatch of curls of her sex. Winona panted louder. “Patrick…”

He kissed her thighs and the hard little nub before moving back up to kiss her. His mouth was rough and insistent, he hand trailing up her thighs to her mound. His hook traced down the line of her neck, his cock pressed against the top of her thigh. His fingers parted open her lips and one finger slipped inside. She shuddered as he rubbed inside her, swirling the slick around her hole. He bit roughly at her bottom lip and crooked his finger, punching a moan out of her.

He slipped another finger into her and spread her open. It was easy, she was already so loose and relaxed, with his constant kisses and the his talent fingers rubbing against her clit. He slipped a third digit into her hole and she felt full. “Patrick,” she panted, his teeth nibbling at one side of her neck and then the other. “I’m...I’m ready, god, please, Patrick, just, just…”

Patrick leaned back, his fingers pushed in and out of her slowly, torturously slow. He smirked and crooked them, his thumb swirling against her clit in constant slow circles. She arched, a coil inside of her tightening. “Winona,” and she moaned, the way his voice dripped the vowels of her name like honey but sharp like the hook trailing down her side.

His fingers slipped out of her and she lost all will to breathe. She felt so empty, so open and empty. He shifted a little and his cock was right at her entrance, teasing her. His cock grinded against her but didn’t enter, didn’t fill her up. She whined, back arching, nails digging into the back of his neck. “C’mon, come on, _Patrick_ \--” he shoved his cock into her, slipping inch by inch painstakingly into her, all the while grinning like he’d just won the lottery, a nice wet and tight lottery. His smirk only grew wider and more filthy, and that just turned Winona on _further_. When he was all the way to the hilt, he pulled back just a little bit, shoving back in a little harder.

Winona moaned, Patrick panted, and the music buzzed achingly in the background. He took his sweet time, grinding into her and listening to her moan. “Pa-Pat-Patrick!” Winona gasped as he pressed back into her. His fingers moved down to rub feather light at her clit. That and the slow pace that Patrick was going at made her whine. “Patrick, come on, faster, Patrick, please, faster.”

“Yeah?” He asked pulling out and thrusting back in a bit harder, a bit faster. She nodded and moaned, her throat bared to him. He only went that little bit faster and she growled at him and he smirked. “What?” he asked innocently, thrusting a bit harder into her.

“You’re such a fucking tease, come on, _fuck me_.”

“You want to be fucked?”

“Yeah, I wanna be fucked, Patrick. ” Patrick smirked and he thrusted into her harder. He started a brutal pace, shoving himself into her and pulling out almost all the way before slamming himself all the way back into her. That, and his now harsher rubbing of her clit, had Winona moaning, her back arching. The tight knot of her stomach and her arousal coiled tighter, more taut. Patrick grinned and mouthed at her breasts, tongue swirling at her nipples. She clenched down on him. “Patrick, Patrick...Patrick.”

“Winona,” he sighed, biting at her stiff peaks, rubbing his fingers harder against her. “Come on, Winona, come for me.”  
She shut her eyes, clenching them, trying to last longer, her legs tightening against his hips. Patrick started to jab at this one spot inside of her, rubbing her clit _just right_ , and he bit at the juncture of her neck. And that was it. Her vision burned bright white for just a moment and everything went hazy and blurry, her hole clenching tightly against the girth inside of her, waves upon waves spasming inside of her. She moaned, her fingers tugging at his hair with sharp jerks.

When she could see clearly without a fuzzy rim blurring her gaze, she looked down at Patrick. She clenched down on him and sat up a bit. She bit at his neck as his thrusts sped up. Her fingers trailed down to where he was thrusting into her, fingers curling around him and rubbing at the slick coating his cock. She bit at his ear and her teeth trailed down from his ear to his neck, biting harder at his neck. “Win-Winona--” he gasped and slammed into her one last time before groaning low, his voice rumbling through his chest and into hers. She felt a rush of warmth and slick coat her insides and she hummed, kissing him on the lips. He rolled his hips in slow circles for a few more moments, riding out the rest of his orgasm before slumping, rolling them onto their sides.

He stayed inside of her for another few moments before slipping out of her to go grab some towels to clean up. She felt the warmth of the towel at her thighs, rubbing circles into her skin before she fell back into her doze. Patrick came back, a moment later, and curled around her. The hum of the radio had gone silent in the night and Winona and Patrick fell asleep.

\--/Gold Dust/--

When Winona woke up the next morning, Patrick was gone. Her back was cold, had been that way for half the night. Her legs ached a little as she stood up and went to the kitchen but Patrick was nowhere to be found. Winona frowned. Where would he have gone? She slipped her t-shirt back on and was about to do her panties too and then she realized that Patrick had literally destroyed her panties. Winona growled and glared at the rising sun.

“Really, where could he be?”

The house was silent, no music, no Patrick, and not even the howling of the desert wind.

\--/Gold Dust/--

The rumble of a car rolled back in at around eight PM. Winona leaped up from her spot on the wooden chair--the one Patrick had sat in last night, oh memories--and rushed to the door. She opened the door slightly and saw the white car that Courtney had driven in, coming to a park. Patrick moved from passenger seat, waving to Courtney, and got out of the vehicle. He looked worse than she had last seen him, blood splattered across his cheeks and face looking like it’d been burnt, a battered duffle hanging off his hook. His face was grim, almost angry as he approached the door and Courtney rolled away.

Winona opened the door for him and Patrick shuffled through the door. “Patrick!” He ignored her and moved towards the kitchen table, dropping the duffle onto the wood and rifling through the bag. He pulled out a first aid kit threw it open. “Patrick?” He didn’t answer, yanking off his jacket and stripping of his jacket. This time it was his shoulder and his bicep that were bleeding. “Patrick, what happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbled, pulling out an anesthetic, tearing it, and dabbing at his wounds. Winona inched closer, hands raised to assist.

“Patrick, is everything okay? Did you find one of your friends? Why’d you leave this--”

“I said _shut up_!” He yelled jerking towards her. Winona took a step back, raising her hands in defense. Winona sat down in one of the chairs and watched him peel open band aids, silent. After a few moments he began to talk. “Found Andy, but he’s dead now,” he growled dabbing harshly at his second wound, the one on his bicep. “Pete got away,” he sounded very angry, “damn it, I don’t know where he is and The Vixens are winning. I just need to find Pete and finish this.”

“Finish what?” Winona reached forward to touch his wrist. Patrick flinched. She decided to ask a different question. “What...what happens when you find him, when you’re finished?”

“I go back home and everything’s back to normal.”

“And...and me?” Winona stared at Patrick’s face and Patrick stared at the door.

“You go home and everything goes back to normal.”

Winona licked her lips and nodded, looking away. She helped him bandage his bicep.

\--/Gold Dust/--

They had sex again that night, but it didn’t feel as good as it had the night before.

\--/Gold Dust/--

Patrick woke her up in the middle of the night to him slamming his fist into the wall and screaming at the top of his lungs. The radio roared back at his with his racket and Winona pushed her hands up to her ears to block out the sound. Patrick’s face was contorted in anger, his claw destroying the paint on the walls, leaving scars. His fist was bloody and bruised and his face was smeared with blood again, this time it was most definitely his. Winona slipped out of bed and approached him. “Patrick!”

He didn’t seem to hear her.

“Patrick! What’s wrong? What are you doing?” He reached up touched his shoulder and he flinched, turning around and pushing her back onto the bed in defense. He screamed at her face and waved his hook in the air. Her heart slammed against her ribcage. The hook landed on the bed’s blanket. He tore the cotton open and growled like a feral animal. Winona watched him be angry and wild for a moment longer before she kicked him in the shins and he dropped onto the bed. She scurried on top of his chest, knowing it was a death wish, and used her weight and her hands to hold his arms down. “Patrick!” She yelled in his face. At first he struggled against her but then she yelled at him again and that seemed to shock him into paying attention. He looked up at her, amber eyes losing their cloudy haze, pulling him out of whatever hellhole memory his mind was playing on repeat.

They panted for a long moment, the radio losing its volume--and damn she needed to figure out what was happening with that damn radio for it to act up at the randomest moments--and Patrick calming down. She refused to loosen her grip on his arms. “...Winona?”

“Yes, hi, Patrick. Now, what the hell happened yesterday? What’s got you so crazy?”

“I can’t…” he looked around the room wildly and shook his head. For a moment she almost thought his eyes were blue, but they weren’t they were golden. “I don’t...I can’t tell you. It might put you in danger.”

“Are you in danger?” she asked, staring at him. Patrick closed his eyes.

“Yeah, probably.”

“God, Patrick, what the hell?”

“It’s just...some shit with my friends, we’re um, we’re on The Vixen’s list.”

“What? Why? Were you in some kind of band?” Patrick nodded and Winona stilled. If Andy, one of his friends, and his other dead friend was dead, they were probably both in his band. God, both his friends and band members were dead. That must’ve been...hell. Winona tried not to think about James. She rested her forehead onto his chest and sighed, loosening her grip on his arms. “Yeah, okay...just don’t...don’t punch the walls again, okay?”

Patrick hummed, nodding. The slow buzz of the radio lulled them to sleep.

\--/Gold Dust/--

Winona woke up with Patrick’s arms curled around her and his erection pressing against the crack of her butt. Patrick was also kissing down her shoulder blades and his fingers were pressing featherlight to her clit, rubbing her softly awake. Winona moaned, heat pooling her gut. “Good morning,” Patrick mumbled, slipping his index finger in her hole. Winona gasped in reply arching slightly against him. Their breath probably stunk but she wanted to kiss him badly...and have his dick shoved inside her.

She was still loose from yesterday so she pulled him close and helped him ease inside of her. She felt very nice and warm, still hazy from just waking up. They rolled against each other in the morning light and he bit down her neck and she rubbed her clit. His one hand cupped her breast and the hook raked down her hipbone and to the tops of her thighs. She gasped, coming softly and Patrick groaned, slipping out her for a moment, flipping her onto her back and thrusting back into her. He was harder, his pace rougher than it was just a moment ago, like he wanted to fuck out all of his energy into her. She gasped, his fingers working her to another orgasm. “P-Patrick…”

He moaned, thrusting harder, pulling out quicker. His fingers moved away from her clit to grip her thighs tightly, bruising them, slamming into her. He kissed her neck, then sucked bruises into her collarbone. Winona moaned, another, more stronger, orgasm cresting over, making her gasp. Patrick growled biting down and thrusted once, twice, three times before coming, spilling into her, his dick throbbing. He hummed, lazily, slowing his now languid thrusts to a stop.

He slipped out of her and rolled onto his back, panting softly. Winona sighed and got up, heading to the bathroom. She needed a shower.

\--/Gold Dust/--

Patrick swirled his spoon in his cereal and then pointed the utensil at her. “How old are you?” he asked. Winona snorted, fresh and clean from her shower, wearing new clothes. Apparently, Patrick’s adventure with Courtney got him more supplies for them. So now she had a few sets of undergarments, two shorts, jeans, and five shirts, along with her previous clothing. She was currently in her new red shorts and ochre tank, enjoying the nice hot air on her wet hair. “What? Why are you laughing?”

“I just think it’s funny that you waited until the third time we’ve had sex before you asked me if I was legal or not.”

“Well, you’ve been very enticing.”

Winona rolled her eyes. She took another bite of her Lucky Charms. “I’m nineteen.”

“Damn,” Patrick scrubbed his eyes. “You look like you’re twenty two.”

“Yeah, well, it’s probably because I know what I want in life, but, yeah, I’ve only been legal for a year.”

“Oh, god,” he groaned, looking down. Patrick looked like he was having a hangover but Winona knew he wasn’t. “Winnie, you sure are something.”

“That I am, Patrick, that I am…”

\--/Gold Dust/--

“Have you ever sucked dick?” Winona looked up from where she was sitting on the floor, reading one of the rusty books from the cabin.

“Uh, yeah? Why?”

Patrick smirked from where he was sitting on the counter. Winona had no idea where this was coming from, _Patrick_ was the one sucking the lollipop like it was going to give him the universe if he sucked hard enough. It was actually making _her_ really hot and bothered, because what if he was that attentive when he went down on a girl? “Oh nothing, just curious.” His eyes flashed golden and the radio sparked with a swanky bluesy song. Winona went back to her book but was interrupted again when she heard very loud slurping. At first she ignored it but then she heard Patrick moan and she peeked. She almost dropped her book. Sticky pink beads of cherry lollipop spilled down Patrick's cheek and he was lapping at the lollipop as if it was a dripping ice cream cone, long but quick licks, swirling his tongue everywhere.

Winona flushed, her pussy flaring in interest. She clenched her thighs together and looked up at Patrick to find him just as interested with his dick pressing against his fly and his mouth smirking invitingly. “Wanna taste?” He held out the lollipop and smirked. Winona sighed and got up from the floor and approached him. She opens her mouth and licked the spilling juices off of Patrick's fingers and the corners of his lips. “You missed a spot.”

“Oh yeah?” Patrick nodded.

“Oh yeah,” and he glanced down at his dick, jutting out against the denim.

“Is it very wet?”

“It'll definitely need to be licked at.”

“Oh, okay,” Winona nodded, leaning in for a kiss. She opened up his pants and pushed them down to his knees. After a moment longer of kissing him, Winona slowly lowered to the ground so she could look at Patrick’s dick.

It was a nice dick, not too long and not too thick, but flushed a pretty pink, the head glistening in the afternoon light. She leaned down and gave the tip a small lick. Patrick made a noise and his hand reached down to curl in her hair, his hook scratching against the counter edge.

She opened her mouth and slipped the tip in, closing her teeth lightly around the bottom of the head and then sucking harshly at his cock. Patrick groaned and his fingers tightened in her hair. Winona opened her mouth wider and took another few inches into her mouth, her tongue coming out to lave at the bottom of his dick. She knew she had a very strong gag reflex so she couldn't take him all the way into her mouth, but she could use her fingers to curl around the base and tug. Patrick sucked in a breath sharply, his thighs trembling where they were spread on the counter.

The bottom of her teeth traced the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock, her tongue smoothing the path before the sharp scratch. Patrick moaned and his hook dug into the counter. God, he was so hot. Winona flushed with arousal, her panties slicked uncomfortably. She trailed her second hand down to her short, unfastening the button, pulling down the zipper. She slipped her hand inside her underwear, reaching down, and started to rub at her clit. Winona moaned around Patrick's cock, causing him to moan, and she sucked some more of him into her mouth. She bobbed her head, pushing and pulling him in and out of her mouth, humming at the precome dripping onto her tongue. She rubbed harder at her clit and her other hand want to run at his balls then curl back around his base tighter. Patrick moaned, his thighs flexing every few seconds. He bit at his lip and curled his fingers tighter in Winona’s hair, watching his flushed red length disappear into her mouth and her fingers touching herself, eager to get off.

His hook scraped sharply against the counter, his balls tightening. He hissed when Winona scraped her teeth against him again, suddenly very close. Winona pulled almost all the way off, just sucking tightly on the tip, like it was a lollipop. Patrick groaned, watching her other hand come up to help stroke him. Winona sucked at crown once more, her tongue swirling around the tip before licking right across the slit, and Patrick was coming. Winona swallowed everything down, throat working as his orgasm rolled through him. When he was done, she gave a few more kitten licks at the tip and then longer ones further down before Patrick shooed her away from his now sensitive cock.

She looked up to him from her spot on the floor with a slight smile that was more smug than anything. Patrick didn't like her smiling, no, he wanted her a writhing mess, incapable of speech. The radio switched to a slow dirty song and Patrick smirked, getting off the counter. He leaned down and picked her up, plopping her down on the counter, wiping the smile off her face. He put himself back into his pants slowly and then tugged down her shorts and underwear, shoving them to the ground. He had her lay back onto the counter and spread out her thighs.

He leaned down and his fingers spread her open, the hook trailing patterns into her skin. He looked down at her pussy, the slight spasms of the hole. He moved forward, his tongue out, and licked from the bottom to the top and stayed at the clit. Winona moaned when he swirled around the nun, clockwise and then reverse. He sucked at her and then dropped his teeth a bit to give a rough knick at her, punching a noise out of her.

Her legs quivered on either side of his head and his fingers stroked softly at her lips. Arousal pooled in her gut and she felt very empty. “Pa-Patrick--” His tongue dipped down to press at her opening, only going in a little bit, swirling around her hole.

Winona let out a high keening sound, spreading her legs further apart. He was teasing her, barely pressing into her, slurping loudly at the juices spilling out of her. He hummed and she almost cried out. His tongue pushed inside of her and he immediately started to stroke very fast licks with his tongue. Winona had already been close from when she had played with herself earlier, but now Patrick's thumb was coming up to press at her clit, his hook was almost digging into her stomach, his tongue was making her wet, and he was slurping up all of her juices in loud lewd noises. He twirled his tongue once more, hitting her just right, and his finger was rubbing directly across her now and she was coming, a broken moan left in the air and her pussy clenching and unclenching around his tongue. His ministrations didn't stop, drawing out her orgasm, until her last quivering shake on his tongue.

Patrick slipped away from her and she slowly sat up. His lips and the bottom of his chin were messy and slick. She pulled him close by his shirt and started to lick up the mess. Patrick moaned and Winona slipped her tongue into his mouth. They licked and kissed away each other's taste until they were the same filthy mess, left panting and aching to go at it again. Patrick leaned back and smirked. His hand pulled out something unwrapped from his back pocket. “Lollipop?” And his eyes burned gold.

Winona smiled, “I don't mind if I do.”

\--/Gold Dust/--

“So when's Courtney coming back?” Winona asked over cereal a few days later.

“Soon,” Patrick told her. “Pete has probably found the resistance at this point and so Courtney needs to find _them_ before she can really find Pete.”

“Why’s Courtney able to move around so much but you're not?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” Patrick mumbled looking to the window. The radio fizzed with an 80s pop song.

Winona shrugged, “I guess…”

Patrick looked over, “She's not targeted like I am because she's not a musician.” Something about the way he talked didn't feel like the truth. Winona had started to notice that, how Patrick’s voice didn't always sound like the truth.

“Why can’t _I_ leave?”

Patrick sighed, rubbing his eyes, “The Vixens know you’re with me so they’ll probably be killed on the spot. You’re associated with me and so they’ll get you to get to me and then they can kill another music lover.”

“Which reminds me,” Winona looked at him curiously, shyly, “what band were you in?” The radio cut out, the circuit blown, and it was very quiet in the cabin. Patrick looked like he was about to murder someone, the radio screeched. Winona flinched. “N-never mind, it doesn't, it doesn't matter that much, I guess.”

Patrick nodded slowly and the music slipped back into a more happy tune. Everything felt wrong though.

\--/Gold Dust/--

Courtney came the next day and Patrick was back by nightfall. He wasn’t as bloody as before but he was still tense and angry. He pressed Winona up against the wall and kissed her roughly, fingers digging into her thighs, pushing them apart. Winona moaned when he bit at her neck, his hand and hook pushing her pants down her legs. His jean clad dick pressed against her, grinding down in rough jerks before she got needy, unbuckling his belt and pulling out his cock. They were barely undressed from the bottom down before he rocked his way inside of her, groaning.

She whined. Patrick thrusted, hard, rough jerks dragging against her core. His fingers rubbed quickly at her clit, his lips mouthing at her neck. Winona twined her fingers in his hair, her other hand scrabbling at his shoulder, pushing down against him. Patrick was already on edge, she could tell with his harsh panting and sharp teeth digging into her shoulder, his cock throbbing inside of her. Winona’s nailed scratched down his back, her back arching.

“Mon cherie,” he grinned and Winona gasped, a shot of arousal flaring in her gut. Patrick slipped one of his fingers down to where his cock was riding into her, circling her hole and stretching her a bit further. Winona cried out, her vision blaring out. Patrick groaned, rocking slower into her as he orgasmed too. Everything was slick, hazy, and warm, Winona thought. She felt very droopy and lazy, her body relaxed and strung out. Patrick nibbled at her shoulder a moment longer before he pulled out, dropping her to the ground. Her legs shook as she tried to stand and Patrick grabbed her hand, pulling her towards the bedroom. They collapsed on the bed and Patrick went out like a candle, exhausted. Winona stayed awake a bit longer, mind buzzing like the radio, until she too was lulled to sleep.

\--/Gold Dust/--

“Courtney’s coming back tomorrow,” Patrick told her from his chair. Winona flipped the pancake in the frying pan. She nodded.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, we think we know where Pete is, but he’s very slippery. He’s hard to catch and with all the craziness with Andy and Joe, I think he’ll be more paranoid than usual.”

Winona nodded, understanding what Pete must be going through; she was a mess after her father died a few years ago. “Well, I hope you catch him,” she smiled softly at him. Patrick grinned back, a disco song began to pop on the radio, crackling in the cabin.

“I hope I’ll get him too.”

Winona nodded and flipped another pancake.

\--/Gold Dust/--

Patrick’s hand swept down her ribs, touching each bone with a light pressure like he was trying to test the strength of the bones. He mouthed at her stomach, teeth scraping along her abdomen. His hook trailed up to the strap between her bra and tugged, tearing apart another bra. “Really?” she asked, huffing out a laugh. Patrick grinned devilishly, nodding. Her breasts hung out and Patrick leaned up to kiss each one, tongue curling around the tips.

His hand and hook moved down to pull off her panties. Winona sighed, kicking the fabric off when it reached her ankles. Patrick pressed his entire body against hers, the warm skin of his chest smooth against her breasts. Their stomachs pressed every few minutes and flushed cock was hot against her hip. He kissed her, his tongue swirling against hers. She reached up, fingers smoothing down his sides like he had done to her. Her hands curled around his biceps and touched the arch of his spine. He ground against her hip; Winona moaned.

Sucked on her bottom lip, his golden eyes hooded. She was the same, a pink blush high on her cheekbones, her pupils blown wide, and her lips a puffy red mess. Arousal filled the room, keeping it warm and musky. Patrick pushed his hips further down, fingers opening her open, and slipped right in. He was slow, his lips teasing her nipples, his thrusts long and drawn out. His hips circled, corkscrewing in. Winona moaned, scratching her nails sharply down his back. His hips stuttered and then he picked up the pace a bit.

He rolled his hips harder against hers, hers bucking up, but he still kept it slow and languid. He got two orgasms out of her before he came, soft in the fading light, kissing her, biting at her bottom lip, his hook tearing at the blankets and his hand curled in her hair, her hands wrapped around his neck, her hips raised, a red flush and sheen of sweat covering their bodies.

\--/Gold Dust/--

“When will you be back?” Winona asked, leaning against the doorway. She was wearing one of his shirts and it barely covered her butt and a pair of black panties. Patrick shrugged, already dressed. He was packing the duffle with some of his clothes.

“I don’t know,. Probably tomorrow.”

“Why are you packing a bag?”

“Because Pete might need clothes.” Something in his voice was very off. He also wouldn’t look at her. His hook twitched by his side. He was lying. She didn’t know what to say to that. Tears prickled at the edges of her eyes. She had felt very sick this morning, her stomach rolling in uncomfortable knots.

“You’ll come back if you find him, right?”

“Of course,” he said. Lie.

“Right,” she nodded, looking towards the window, the sun was just rising. She shivered, cold. Patrick slung his torn jacket on. The radio buzzed a sad song this morning. Patrick moved towards the bedroom door, heading down the hall. Winona trailed slowly behind him. She felt like a sad puppy or the pitiful mistress who had fallen in love.

Patrick pulled out a few cans of peaches from the pantry, shoving them in his duffle. Winona could hear the rustle of an oncoming car, rolling through the dust: Courtney. The radio veered in and out of transmission, raising in volume. Winona watched Patrick scuffle around in the kitchen, killing time. He wouldn’t look at her.

“Be safe,” she told him. Patrick nodded. His golden gaze kept to the floor. The rustle of tears stopped, a honk sounded from the outside. Patrick finally looked at her. His eyes stared at her face, looking at her puffy lips and then the blooming bruises on her neck. He smirked and nodded.

“Bye,” he grinned. “Wish me luck.”

Winona frowned and took a few steps forward. She wrapped her arms around Patrick and pulled him in close. She kissed him roughly, possessively. His arms hung loose and still by his side and his kiss didn’t feel as returned. The radio quietened down. She kissed him again. She pulled away and looked in his eyes. It felt like his eyes were mocking her. He grinned, gave her a last kiss, and untangled himself from her grasp. He took to the doorway, slow and easy, swagger rolling in his joints. She called weakly from her spot by the table, “Good luck.”

Patrick looked back, waved, lips quirked in a devilish grin, and slipped out of the door, closing it behind him. Her heart clenched in her chest, listening to the sound of the tires leaving the cabin. The radio suddenly cut off.

\--/Gold Dust/--

Winona threw up in the kitchen sink. Her stomach felt _terrible_. She was anxious and nervous about Patrick, worried sick about where he’d gone and when he’d come back. The radio was buzzing but no song would play, just a dead radio. Winona was sick of that radio. It was always playing and it was always annoying, it never let the cabin be silent. Winona scrambled away from the sink, wiping away her spit, and reaching up for the radio that was perched on the windowsill. She clawed it down from its perch.

She twisted at the dials, trying to change the channel, but nothing she did to the dials changed the constant buzz. She flipped the old radio onto its back and tore off the back of the radio to take out the batteries. But, there were no batteries in the radio and yet it was still buzzing it’s insistent noise. Winona threw the radio at the wall, but the thing didn’t break. Winona’s stomach shifted and she lunged for the kitchen sink, throwing up whatever was left in her stomach.

The radio switched to a peppy beach song.

\--/Gold Dust/--

Patrick didn’t come back that night. Or the day after or the one after that. Winona was bedridden, her stomach her own enemy. She was curled up in a fetal position and everything hurt. It was like she was on her period, but she knew she couldn’t be, she still had a few more days before…

Winona threw up in the bucket she had found yesterday. Patrick’s shirt still smelled like him and she would just breathe in the smell of him and everything felt a little bit better. And then she remembered that he still wasn't’ back and she’d feel miserable again. The radio seemed to be cackling at her and overall mocking her since it kept playing happy upbeat songs. She tried not to think about the radio because then it would just make her head hurt and pound with a headache. Winona growled and curled a little further into her fetal position.

  
\--/Gold Dust/--

  
Patrick had been gone for four days. Winona was almost out of food and still extremely sick. If he wasn’t back tomorrow she would need to leave soon and get to a doctor. She wasn’t sure what was wrong but her entire body felt weak and out of it.  
She hoped Patrick would come back soon.

\--/Gold Dust/--

Patrick didn’t come back the next morning. Winona slipped out of the bed. Her stomach lurched and her chest ached. She went to the bathroom and took a shower, throwing up halfway through, but still cleaning herself. She thanked whatever deity existed that she had gotten such a short haircut because she couldn’t deal with long hair in her messy state. Winona pulled back on Patrick’s shirt, slipping on the jeans and jacket she had worn the first day she’d come here with Patrick. She hoped The Vixens wouldn’t kill her if she ever made it back to civilization.

She wrapped all her stuff and some food into a large shirt, a makeshift bag. And hobbled out of the door. The radio stilled and fizzled to a stop. Winona let out a breath, leaning against the closed cabin. She pulled out the car keys that Patrick had left on the table and unlocked the car. She slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out her phone. While she had been here--for what? A month, god, it seemed like a year--she had kept her phone turned off to save battery for emergencies. She had also doubted that her phone would be able to really help her much out there in the middle of the desert.

She turned it on, the screen glowing, and thumbed over to the maps app. Surprisingly, she found the perfect route back to the city and her phone worked. She had three hundred missed calls and texts on her phone, but she ignored them, turning on the ignition.

Winona drove back through the desert, her cyan hair blowing in the wind, her pale skin glowing in the light, towards the city, with only the memory of Patrick’s glowing eyes and rough kiss to keep her company.

  
The End.


End file.
